Dodgy Situations
by Devin MJ
Summary: An Artful Dodger fic... the rest is a surprise XD
1. Chapter 1

A big house.

Yes.

A very big house. Pictures on the walls. Books on the shelves. Maids. Butlers. Cooks. Warmth in the winter, cool air in the summer. Soft beds. Food, all the time, whenever it was wanted. Anything one could possibly need at the flinch of a finger.

It was promised. It was certain.

Though, he supposed he should have seen it coming. At least the part about not getting all of the above. After all, Bill had to be…in his 40s, at least. What did he have but some shabby apartment to share with his girlfriend? He supposed he really shouldn't be surprised at _why_ he was where he was.

This is what he spent most of his days thinking about. Not that there was anything better to do _but_ sit and think.

Today, however, had turned out to be a comparatively good day, as opposed to yesterday when he awoke with some drunken hag leaning against him. So in honor of today being such a good day, he decided to get up and walk around. Pushing himself off the ground and using the wall for aid, he couldn't help but bring his hand to his forehead and groan in pain from the headache he'd probably earned himself from that last helping of…whatever it was he'd been drinking. He sagged against the bricks with one hand over his eyes and the other running back and forth over the hair that had been long missing a familiar hat.

Maybe getting up wasn't that great of an idea, but he'd been sitting for hours and figured it would probably do him good. So, with a final shove to the wall, he began to stumble towards the road, squinting in the midday sun.

Right or left?

To the right…poles with wanted posters leading directly to the heart of the marketplace. Every time he saw them, he'd shake his head (occasionally adding "50£?? That's it??") and then proceed to rip each one down.

Right now though, he wasn't in the mood to clean the streets of such vandalism. Left led away from civilization, and the quiet would be good for his headache, so this was the obvious better choice. He forced his legs to take him down the sidewalk, trying to remind himself "One foot, then the other, then the other again, then the other again," and rewarding himself when he finally got the hang of it, "That's a good man, now you've got it, right, left, right, left." Fortunately, no one was around to hear him talking to himself in such a dazed manner. Working or not, his legs were aching as though he'd been running all night long. For all he could remember, he probably did.

This is the way he'd lived for the past two months. It had seemed like twenty-three eternities. "At least twenty-three," he grumbled, losing his train of thought as he spoke and stumbling over his own feet. He balanced himself again on the wall before resuming the self-instruction, this time internally. He still had enough sense to not shout at the world that he was losing his mind, and he was still aware enough of his current situation to duck his head so the girl passing him couldn't see his face.

-----------------------

What happened next was very peculiar; the girl didn't pass him, but instead grabbed him by both arms and threw him up against the wall.

"What the hell??" he shouted at her, mostly annoyed because this wasn't helping his headache.

"You're the one they're looking for."

He raised his eyes to hers and squinted to keep out the sun. This girl was odd. Her hair was frizzy and unkempt, shoulder-length in all its matted glory, and her face was very tan and smudged with dirt.

The boy frowned at her. "Aye. Planning on dragging me to the traps?" he asked dryly.

"No," she blinked.

"Well good, because I could take on three-a-ya at the same time with my hands tied behind my back."

"Excellent." She replied twice as dryly as the boy's first question. Shaking her head, she brought her focus back to the matter at hand. "I've been looking for you, Mr. Jack Dawkins. What I have in mind for you will earn me much more than 50£. I think you'll find yourself in a pretty comfortable position as well. So either you listen to this 'ere proposition, or," here she smirked rather wickedly and pulled out a revolver that seemed almost too large for her hand, but at the same time fit easily into her grip, making it easy to see that she'd used it before. "I take you to the traps. And in case you try to run, you might be interested to know that I don't miss." The revolver returned to her jacket pocket. "So what'll it be, Mr. Dawkins?"

Now, the boy was rather taken aback by all of this. Today had started out so well! Apparently SOMEONE had a change of plans.

"Well…as lovely a day it is to be shot, I think I just may be more interested in this offer of yours. 'Sides. Ain't got nothin' better to do."

"Perfect." She eased her grip on his arms and finally lowered her hands to slip them into the pockets of her two-sizes-too-big pants. "Let's go find a place to sit down and have a nice chat, shall us?"

-----------------------

She led him into the same bar he'd been into so many times before with the other boys and Fagin, and needlessly instructing him to keep his head low. They sat down at a relatively dark corner. A brunette waitress with a low cut dress came by to take their orders.

"Nothing here," the girl told her quickly. "you?" she looked at him.

"I'm alright, thanks." He replied, (despite his growling stomach) avoiding eye contact. The waitress shrugged and left them alone.

Now the girl turned to him again, her expression grave in the dim lighting, as though what she was about to say was of life-or-death importance. "Ready to listen?"

He nodded.

"I'm willing to offer you a rood to live under, as long as you help me out. Really, there ain't much to disagree with. You come with me, help me collect some boys, and we'll start up a company of sorts."

"You mean thieving?"

"Precisely. We'll set up a daily quota to meet and work each day until we meet it. After a while, it'll begin to add up, you'll see. The main goal, Jack Dawkins, is the life you've always dreamed of."

"The life I've always dreamed of." He echoed skeptically. "What makes you think I'm the right person for this? Why not any other prig out there? Plenty of 'em, that's for sure."

"Aye, thought about that long and hard myself. But one thing made up my mind for certain."

"And what's that?"

She looked at him straight on and smirked. "You're the Artful Dodger."

-----------------------

The boy blinked. The traps didn't know that name. It wasn't on the wanted posters. No one should know except the others and Bet. Maybe she'd run into one of them? Unlikely, yes, but how else... " Where did you -"

"Oh come, we ain't got time to waste on unimportant details. Does it sound like a plan?"

"Do I have a choice?" He frowned. This girl was certainly very strange.

"No. No you don't. The case standin' as it is, perhaps the better question would be: will you do this of your own accord, or must I make this unpleasant?"

"...Well can I at least have your name afore I make said decision?"

The girl laughed now. "Indeed. Keane Torry, it is."

He nodded and extended his hand in a business-like fashion. "Well then, Keane Torry, we have an accord."

Keane smiled and shook his hand. "Excellent!" Her face seemed to have softened, and Jack Dawkins no longer had that itching notion that she might pull out that revolver at any moment and do him in. Either way, he still didn't trust her entirely.

"Why do you want this?" He asked as she flagged down a waitress. Apparently this was cause for celebration.

"Why not?" she answered absently, and the waitress approached the table. "Two ales?"

"You bet," the girl answered and took off.

"Well why now all of a sudden?" he tried again.

"Look," her features darkened once more and she turned back to him. "Questions ain't part of the deal." she sighed. "If you _must_ know, I saw your poster and the reward...well I knew you must be good. The average prig nowadays ain't worth more'n 15£, and even that's a little high. You must've hit every livin' bein' in this city. So I asked around."

Well that was probably the most he'd get out of her for now. Somehow this all seemed too promising to work out. He wasn't really prepared to wind up on the street again, now that the opportunity for something better had presented itself. "Well I hope I'm what you thought." he laughed as the waitress set down two metal mugs and walked off.

"Not a doubt in my mind." Keane lifted her drink with an air of dignity. "To a prosperous future."

"To expectations met," he contributed.

"Cheers."

* * *

Aloha! Great to be FINALLY putting something else up. I had to wait for a very important someone's birthday.  
And eh...I'll take this opportunity to do a thanks or two. 

Firstly, I asked her to pick a name she'd like to go by, so I'd like to say THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU to one Maw for helping me come up with a pretty sweet plot line. Honestly couldn't write half the crap I come up with without her. **HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!** Hopefully this and chapter two will make up for the fact that I can't very well give you anything...really...tangible...

And I'd like to state that I don't own the Artful Dodger, he's totally Mr. Dickens'.

If the urge strikes you, I would love you to leave me a review. That would be pretty boss.

-PB

**NOTE: Keane is pronounced Key-in, as I've come to learn, not Keen. Just in case you were wondering. **


	2. Chapter 2

They left the bar without paying, and walked down the cobblestone road, Keane leading Jack to wherever it was they were going. The ale had worked wonders for his headache, though he wasn't sure at all how that made sense. Either way, now he was feeling very awake and living. For once in a long time, he felt comfortable and reasonably hopeful.

However, he knew he was out of practice. Really out of practice. No matter how good a pickpocket he was, if you don't do it regularly, it's frightfully easy to lose.

To expectations met.

To her keeping her promise.

To him being as good as she'd made him out to be.

Right now, he preferred not to think about it, as it was putting a sizable damper on his good mood.

"How far away are we?" He asked to break the silence, as well as stop his train of thought.

"Ain't too much further. Right directly around the corner here. And it ain't too big, but I believe it's big enough to cram a few of us in."

Jack nodded. Spitalfields had been much like that…it was a generous little complex, but there was only just enough room for everyone to sleep. That was all they'd need though, and he hardly believed they'd find as many boys as he had under Fagin.

"I think you'll like it." She continued, leading him around the corner to a ragged building, then stopping in order to allow him to look at it.

It was difficult to see everything with the sun shining in his eyes, but for the most part, it looked pretty big. Possibly even _bigger_ than Spitalfields. Only they'd be staying in just one room. "What floor're we on?" he asked, still taking in the building.

She turned to face him, a wry grin spreading across her face. "Anywhere you like."

Jack began to nod acceptingly, but stopped himself. "…Anywhere." He echoed.

"Yes, anywhere." She sighed exasperatedly.

"You're sure."

"Yes, I'm bloody sure of everything, come on!" Keane grabbed his arm and yanked him none too kindly toward the front door of the place that suddenly seemed so much larger than what originally met his eye.

Your average middle-class citizen of London would find this house to be everything distasteful. Jack Dawkins, however, felt like royalty. The quality of the place, in all honesty, wasn't much better than Spitalfields. But this place was his. Fagin had been a pleasure to work with…of sorts…but now Jack supposed there was no use in pretending he still worked for him. Now he was about to run his own.

"I assumed you'd like to stay on the third floor, but really then entire place is open."

"No! I mean, no, no the third floor is fine. The third floor is great." He stared around at everything in amazement.

Keane glanced at him and shook her head. "Well the third floor would be up the stairs, in case you were looking for it."

Jack rolled his eyes at her condescending remark and began to make his way up two flights of stairs. He found at once the room he'd be staying in. It was directly to the left of the staircase, and was in the corner, giving it plenty of windows. "I call this room!" he shouted down to her.

"I don't really care!" She shouted back up.

The boy shook his head, smiling, and threw his jacket down on the bed as a territory marker. This was something different, even in Spitalfields he slept on a cramped loveseat. So what if the bed had holes in it, and the blanket was stained and looked singed in parts around the edge? It was a luxury, to be sure. He could definitely get used to this.

"You done sightseeing up there? We got work to do!" She called up again.

He paused a while before responding, his heart rate picking up slightly. "…Now?" He asked cautiously, knowing that to call his skills rusty would be an understatement enough to count as a flat out lie.

"Yes!" She sighed with an irritated edge. "We need to start looking for more as soon as we can."

"Oh!" he shouted in relief.

She eyed him peculiarly as he rushed down the steps. "You're stranger than I imagined you'd be," she muttered and shoved him through the door.

"You're sure this is a good idea?" Jack Dawkins asked a bit anxiously as the market came into view. Keane was silent, and he took this as a cue to shut his mouth.

He temporarily took that as his cue to shut his mouth. Not five seconds later, as the noise of the crowd grew louder, he continued. "They're still looking for me,"

Still no response.

He continued to walk beside her until he saw a dark blue uniform walk away from one of the stands, causing his heart to plummet into his stomach and bounce around in a most uneasy fashion. Not being able to go any further, he backed himself against a wall. "This ain't a good idea."

"Oh please,"

"No! They're looking for me; they've got _posters_, Keane, _posters_! Everywhere! They don't do that for just your between-the-lines prig! I ain't going to go back there. I won't."

Keane stopped walking and frowned. "Well then I should say it's a good thing you ain't going back, lest you have yourself a heart attack and die."

"If they see me, that's exactly where I'll go." He tried to make his tone a little calmer.

"Well then don't let them see you." Now she chuckled. "I thought you weren't supposed to be afraid of nothin'."

"I ain't afraid!" he shouted, his voice cracking.

Keane smirked at him. "Come on then, and don't get caught."

"You ain't never been to the traps! They ain't just lookin' to throw me in, they'll have me swingin' for letting myself out!"

"Then try harder not to get caught." The girl turned her back and began walking again, and after a moment or two, Jack followed her.

She really didn't quite understand. Jack had heard plenty from Fagin about different hangings, (now he'd even gotten the opportunity to experience that himself, rest his soul) and he'd decided long ago that that was not the way he'd be put out. But that was what he was up for. He supposed she was right, though. The only reason he'd spent the last months on the street was because he _was_ afraid of being caught. Who wouldn't be? If he was going to get anywhere though, he knew he needed to come off it. And that was the _only_ reason he followed her. This girl had to be positively off her rocker, but so was Fagin, and his intentions were well…for the most part. Hers couldn't be that far off either.

So he ducked his head. With no hat and no jacket, it was difficult. Then again, those articles of clothing were what he was best recognized as wearing, so maybe not having them was doing more good than anything.

They'd entered through the back of the market, and Jack knew from previous experience that most of them (if there were any at all) would be towards the entrance. However, today he didn't seem to have such luck. They wandered through the city, passing wooden carts full of fruits and breads, passing cement stairwells that led up to middle class red brick apartments. The only living things on the side of the road were weeds and drunkards too old for any good use.

"There ain't nobody here, can we go home?"

"Why so flitzy? Thought you weren't afraid." She replied nonchalantly.

The corners of Jack's mouth turned down. "I ain't said nothing about bein' afraid, what I said was there ain't no one out here. We should go back."

"Not yet we're not." She told him in a commanding tone, squinting from the late afternoon sun. "What's that over there?"

As if waiting for that exact moment, a boy appeared, passed out on the ground and partially hidden by a bin of trash. Keane turned to Jack with a knowing grin and a raised brow. "Well go on, get him!"

"What?"

"You heard right and well the first time, go wake him up!" She shoved him hard and he stumbled towards the character on the ground. He turned around to throw her a dirty glare before approaching the boy of his own free will.

He was sprawled out on the ground in what had to be a quite uncomfortable position. He wore no shirt, and his shoes were falling apart. Black tufts of hair poked out from underneath a hounds tooth cap. He looked rather young, not even possibly more than ten. Jack squatted down and poked the boy on his bare back. The boy didn't stir. For a brief moment, Jack wondered if he was even alive, and with that thought he shook the boy a little harder. He awoke with a start, flailing about like a wild animal about to be put into captivity, barely missing Jack's nose with his fist. "Hey! Watch it!" he shouted, trying to grab the boy's arms. As soon as he stopped moving around enough to get a glimpse of his 'attacker', the boy calmed down and a look of puzzlement overcame his expression.

It was quiet for a second until Jack spoke. "And what's a cove like yourself doing sleeping here off the side of the road?"

He didn't answer.

More silence.

"What do you say to this 'ere offer: I bring you back with me and that there girl," he motioned to Keane, " and I can help make you richer than the queen herself." A slight exaggeration, yes, but really it was more about appeal right now than anything else.

The boy raised his eyes to look at Jack. "You can do that?"

"I can do anything." He grinned. "What's your name, boy?"

"Terrence Gibbons, sir." His voice was higher in pitch, but not irritatingly so.

"And how does it sound to you, Terrence Gibbons?" He asked, feeling much older now that he was being addressed as Sir.

"I'd like that very much, thank you sir."

The older boy stood and held out his hand to help the younger up. Walking back over to his female companion, he absentmindedly introduced them to each other. His thoughts were really on flashbacks of finding Oliver. As they walked, he let them talk, and he let his thoughts wander even more. He _was_ good. He was _really_ good. He was the _best_. Until he was thrown to the traps for life. But it had been so good while it lasted…

They walked back between dozens of stands, and he caught bits and pieces of Keane's informing speech. A moment later, his heart was back in his stomach. Another uniform. Damn. They'd have to start running…

No.

This was tiring. He didn't want to run anymore. Although Keane hadn't even noticed, they were approaching a fruit stand, and talking to the cashier was one of the traps. Jack didn't say anything, and as they passed, he raised his eyes to the officer's and smiled.

"Sir?"

The boy's voice rang in his ears, and he returned his gaze down again. "What?"

"I was just asking your name, sir."

Jack Dawkins smirked and let three apples fall from the sleeve of his shirt, tossing one to his new comrades. "I'm the Artful Dodger."

Keane glanced at Dodger for a moment, but looked back at the road just as quickly, chuckling under her breath.

Things were going to be a lot easier now.

* * *

Once again, let me say HAPPY BDAY MAW!!!! Been waiting to put these suckers up XD 

Hope you enjoyed it.

And I don't mean to insult anyone's intelligence, but I'm not sure whether I made it clear enough. I thought I did, but _just in case_, I thought I should tell you that the apples didn't appear out of nowhere...well in a way they did...but he stole them...just making it clearer...i think you got that, but I fear that some people might not...and that would be just awful...

So review, the critiques make me infinately happy. Last time I learned that the pound symbol, like the american dollar, goes BEFORE the number...so I apologize about that last chapter...thank you to Vechababe for pointing that out XD

Thanks to AuroraMercury6 for the C2, the best thing I could possibly get out of putting my fic up on here

Hope your birthday was FANTASTICBOSSAMAZINGCRAZYDAFTCOOL fun, Maw

Look for chapter three soon...

PandaBlue

ps. Also, in the last fic...bugged the crap out of me when I saw it, but it wasn't big enough to take the entire chapter down to fix...I'm sure you noticed it if you read it...rood was _supposed_ to be roof. Ok! I'm gone!


	3. Chapter 3

Terrence Gibbons caught the apple and greedily bit into it. Before long there was juice dribbling down his chin. Dodger watched him with a grin on his face as he dropped his apple back down into his sleeve, keeping it there with his fingertips. He'd obviously just made this kid's day.

"Ain't much time left today, but you'll go out with the boy tomorrow?" Keane asked as she took a bite out of her apple.

He frowned at this. "What's keeping you?"

"I got stuff." She told him as though it should have been obvious.

"Stuff."

"That's what I said."

Dodger waited a moment to see if she'd say anything else, but she was watching Terrence eat as though it were some fantastic new form of entertainment, so he continued. "What sort of 'stuff'?"

"Look," she turned to him darkly, swallowing the fruit in her mouth. "It don't matter, okay?"

Dodge waved his hands defensively. "Alright! I'll do it! If it'll keep me from bein' murdered!"

Keane laughed, obviously pleased with this reaction. "Ain't much to worry about there. Ain't no sense in getting rid of you just yet."

"Good to hear."

"I'm sure."

They walked along in silence, and after a few moments of going at his apple the way a snake strikes its prey, Terrence spoke again. "Are we almost there, sir?"

"Five more minutes, give or take." He shrugged.

By now, Keane had also finished her apple, and threw the core to the grass. Terrence followed suit. More silence. Dodger's curiosity was slowly beginning to peck away at the corners of his mind, an itch just waiting to be scratched. But he shoved his questions aside for the time being. There was no use in pestering Keane, she'd only get mad, and she would never answer anyway. So he allowed the quiet to settle in.

"May I ask a question sir?" Terrence asked timidly after another minute or two.

"You ain't gotta ask, just spit it out. Dodge don't need no mannerisms, he ain't no gentleman." Keane snorted.

Dodger shot her a slightly irked glance before responding for himself. "What is it you'd like to ask, _Terrence_?" He asked, still glaring at Keane, but smiling anyway.

"I don't mean to be rude, sir, but what is it we're doing tomorrow?"

"We're teach-"

"You're just goin' to pick up a think or two for the house." The girl cut him off with a warning expression.

Terrence nodded. "I'd be more than happy to, miss."

Now Dodger snorted. Sure, he'd only known her a few hours, but he felt he knew her well enough now to say, "Miss? You'd best stick with Keane if you're lookin' for a fitting title."

Keane reached over and punched him on the shoulder. "I can be proper when I want to, no matter what you say."

"Of course! Just in the way that I can eat lunch with the beak every day if the want struck me."

"Ha, Dodge. You're hysterical." Keane replied dryly.

"Are we almost back, sir?" Terrence interjected.

"We're here." Dodge told him, laughing. "Ain't much, but you'll find-"

"By god!" The wide-eyed boy gasped, then immediately covered his mouth for allowing such obscenities to slip out.

"…You'll find it quite impressive…" The older boy finished off.

"It's…quite large indeed, sir. I've never been inside a building so big!" He spoke from behind his hands.

"Well you'll come to get used to it." Keane assured him with a pat on the head. "Can we go in now?"

"Oh yes, miss! I'm sorry for keeping you!"

She shook her head and ruffled his hair as she started towards the building.

"Find yourself a room!" Dodger said off-handedly, a bit tired from the excitement of the day. He sat down at the table and dropped his apple on top of it. The sunlight was fading rapidly, much like his energy.

"Any room?" He echoed in disbelief.

"What is it with boys?" Keane groaned. "Yes, any room!"

Terrence stared for a moment, absorbing the news, and then took off for what would end up being the room beside Dodger's. "If you don't mind," He called down a few minutes later as Dodge was trying desperately not to fall asleep. "I think I'll go to bed now. Goodnight! And thank you for taking me here!"

"'Night! Welcome!" Dodger shouted back, slightly startled from being jolted awake by the boy's high tone of voice. For a few seconds, the silence begged sleep to overtake him, but Keane sat down across the table from him before he could drift off. He assumed this was a good thing though; he'd much rather fall asleep in that wonderful bed waiting for him upstairs.

"I don't trust him." She said.

"What are you talking about?" Dodge groaned, rubbing his eyes and stretching.

"The boy. He'll think it's wrong. He'll peach."

"He won't,"

"He will!"

"He won't!" He sighed. "Look, lemme talk to 'im. See what he'd think. Put it hypothetical."

"I'm tellin' you, it won't do no good." She shook her head and crossed her arms.

"Give 'im a right chance, will you? Where else do you think the boy'll go?"

"He's a 'spectable lookin' boy, Dodge, he'd find a home in a heartbeat!"

"If he comes to like us, he won't want to go nowhere. Treat him nice an' he'll stay like a tamed dog, you know he will."

Keane sighed and nodded. "Talk to 'im."

It was quiet another moment or two, then Dodger said, "Is this the way we're to go about all of 'em? That won't work no how."

"No, it's just that one, actin' all proper, like he knows what's right and what ain't. He'll think-"

"He won't!"

She gave an exasperated groan, throwing her hands in the air. "You don't believe me now, but when he peaches, you just remember!"

"Yeah, yeah, alright! Crucified Christ! You don't never stop, do you?"

" I'd rather watch for it than let 'em sneak up and peach! You can't just right off trust 'em!"

Dodger grumbled and put his face in his hands, dragging them down to his lap. "If we're gonna do this, we can't just lie to 'em _then_ tell 'em! They ain't never gonna trust us!"

"How about we deal with it when we come to it, eh? How does that sound?" The girl suggested agitatedly.

"Fine!"

"Alright!"

"Go talk to the boy!"

"He's asleep!"

"Fine!"

"Alright!"

Once again there was silence as both of them sat on opposite sides of the able, arms crossed, looking away from each other. And once again, it was Terrence who spoke. "Begging your pardon, sir, but I couldn't sleep. What was it you wanted to speak to me about?"

Dodger looked at Keane hesitantly, but she waved her hand for him to go on and recrossed her arms.

He looked back at Terrence. "…You remember I said we're goin' out to pick up a thing or two tomorrow?" He asked, voice a bit more high-pitched than normal.

"Yes sir." The boy nodded, bright blue eyes staring up at him inquisitively.

"Well we ain't. I mean, we are, but we ain't…it's not…"

"We're theivin'." Keane announced.

Terrence was quiet, frowning as if trying to comprehend precisely what was said. "You mean…stealing, sir?"

"But it ain't bad, you see, we-"

"Yes, stealing." She told him blatantly, glaring at Dodger.

Terrence nodded. "But it's not bad."

"No. Just…don't get caught, see, 'cause a whole lot of people think it is." Dodger informed him, finally able to get a full sentence out.

"Why would they think it's bad if it's not?" the boy frowned again.

"Because," Keane smiled, thumping him on the shoulder lightly. "We ain't as fortunate as summa them other coves out there, an' they just don't understand what we gotta do to live a somewhat comfortable lifestyle."

"So you gotta watch out for them traps, hear me?" Dodge warned.

"Yes sir."

"They'll throw you right in for life if they can catch you. You watch for 'em."

"He'll be alright," Keane tousled his hair. "Won't you?"

Terrence nodded. "I'll watch out for them. I promise."

"That's a good boy. Go try and get some sleep now. You'll be up bright an' early tomorrow, if Dodge can think to get up by then." She slapped him on the back, lightly shoving him towards the stairs.

Dodger looked at her. She had to be out of her mind. The boy would be caught the moment he stepped foot in that square.

"That's what he's got you for." Keane said once Terrence had gone, as though reading Dodger's mind. "You'll teach him tomorrow. 'Sides, his face looks innocent enough."

He nodded and looked absently over a shelf stacked with four or five dishes and one glass. "You're right." No one would even suspect him. His eyes showed quite obviously that he'd just come straight from the nest, but kindly left out that he'd probably been kicked out of it. Yes, Terrence would be alright. "You're right." Dodge repeated.

"I know, I wouldn'ta said it-"

"You know, I think I'll get some rest now, exciting day and all, so I'll see you in the morning? Alright! Sleep well, goodnight, and many more polite things to say before going to bed,"

"Then shut your trap and go!" She laughed.

The mood having lightened considerably, Dodger took the opportunity to turn around and begin bowing profusely, hand motions and all, backing to the stairwell. "I bid you adieu, 'til the morrow, good lady," he added, allowing his sarcasm to show itself in the form of a rather loud snort.

"If you don't get up those stairs in the next three seconds," she warned, dark brown eyes alive with fire, but smiling anyway.

"I'm gone!" He shouted back through laughter, and ran up the stairs.

He shut the door to his room and threw himself on the bed.

A bed.

"Oh god it's been a long time," he sighed happily as he sprawled out. It was the first soft thing he'd felt since the jacket the old hag he woke up beside was wearing. And personally, he didn't really count that.

After a second of just laying there, he sat up and shoved the jacket he'd thrown there earlier to the floor. It definitely had been an exciting day. In just the last few hours, his entire life had made a turn for the better. Tonight, he'd sleep like a rock, and in the morning, Keane would wake him and the day would start again.

No, wait. Keane 'had stuff'. What stuff? She was definitely a weird one.

At that exact moment, there was a great crashing sound from downstairs. Dodger hopped out of bed and swung his door open to run out and look over the banister at the bottom floor. There was dead silence for almost a minute, during which Dodger debated calling out to make sure Keane was alright, but then he heard footsteps moving quickly towards the door. He moved out of sight, but was still in a place where he could see Keane open and noiselessly shut the front door behind her.

"Stuff." Dodge muttered. "Of course, stuff." If she were going to spend the evening at a bar, the least she could do was invite him. He wouldn't care if she were doing Nancy-work. All the girls he ever knew did Nancy-work.

"What was that, sir?" A small voice asked from behind him.

Dodger turned to Terrence. "Keane dropped something." He yawned.

"Is she alright?" He inquired worriedly.

This made the Artful Dodger laugh. "Oh, she's fine. She's perfect. Go back to bed."

"Alright then. Goodnight, sir."

"Dodger's fine."

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

"You ain't gotta call me 'sir' all the time, Dodger's fine."

"Alright, Mr. Dodger." The boy smiled widely.

Dodge shook his head and shoved him towards the door. "Goodnight, Terrence"

"Goodnight, Mr. Dodger!"

* * *

No matter what I do, I cannot make these chapters long! I mean, I have more I could have typed in, but christ! This was 7 pages long on Word!! Then again, there was a crapload of spacing going on.

Anyway, here's where I pay my dues to Maw for helping me come up with a wickedcool storyline she can't remember anything about. Which is good. Means I get to surprise her. 

And I'm extremely pleased with the reviews. I've heard nothing but good, and the occasional (desperately needed) constructive criticism. Even on DeviantArt. And plus I love seeing the emails from the little bot thingee...makes my day every time.

This chapter was kind of fun to write, I think. I'm not sure why. I think it's because now the story is beginning to reveal itself a little more...I'm not sure how far this chapter brought us, but whether you see it or not, it's beginning to pick up. Just a teeny bit, but I swear it is.

Sorry I'm so slow about updating!! Lotsa homework...spring break is over in two days! sobs But if I can find the time, I'll try to work on chapter four so I can get it up a little faster. I've already got two pages done! Yay for me.

And uh... (checks list) Yep. That's all I have to say for now. Review blahdeeblah...I really really love it when you do. It means AWHOLEFREAKINBUNCH to me. Really. 

PandaBlue 

(ps. I just did a little bit of deleting and reapplying...sorry if it's spamming anyone's inbox...I saw something that needed changing...) 


	4. Chapter 4

Going back to his room, the Artful Dodger fell back on his bed wearily. Several springs were broken, so he fell in a little deeper than he was supposed to, but it didn't really matter. This was an infinite improvement from the brick wall he had become so accustomed to. In his mind, he replayed the crashing and Keane leaving again and again in an effort to put the pieces together. Why wouldn't she tell him something like that? Maybe she figured it was something to be ashamed of. He'd talk to her about it tomorrow. Like earlier at the table, he felt sleep tugging at the corners of his consciousness. Gladly, he gave in to it.

--

"Mr. Dodger?"

He felt a yank at his sleeve.

"Mr. Dodger? Sir?"

He cracked his eyes open to see a particularly short figure standing at the side of his bed.

"Mr. Dodger, it's mid afternoon. We _are_ still going to the market, aren't we?"

He closed his eyes and mumbled, "Yes, we're going. Just a moment and I'll put my face on," a term he'd heard Nancy use time and time again, not particularly caring what exactly it meant at the moment. Then he proceeded to turn away from Terrence and fall back asleep.

Not two minutes later, the boy spoke up again. "Mr. Dodger, I should very much like for you to teach me-"

"Alright, man! Two minutes, I'm downstairs."

"Yes, sir."

"Dodger."

"Yes, Mr. Dodger."

"Wait for me downstairs."

"Yes, Mr. Dodger."

"Good man."

With that, Terrence exited obediently.

After a few seconds Dodger heaved himself from the bed, wobbling a bit from standing so quickly. Once he'd regained his balance, he grabbed his jacket and ran his fingers through his hair in a half-hearted attempt to straighten it, and cursing as he remembered that he no longer had a hat to hide it all. It hadn't gotten too much longer since he was carted off to the traps, but it was slowly taking over his ears and it bothered him too much to be comfortable with. He made a mental note to nick a pair of scissors as he headed down the stairs. "Ready?" He called out as he came off of the last step.

"Yes, Mr. Dodger!" Terrence practically skipped from the dining room to the main hall and followed his elder eagerly through the door.

"Will I be able to help?" the boy pleaded. "I would so enjoy-"

"No, not just yet. Give it a few tries first, Keane an' me'll teach you a bit first. It ain't safe on your first go. It ain't never safe, but 'specially not on your first go." Dodger smiled and patted him on the head.

Terrence smiled back, but his eyes wandered to something behind Dodger who instinctively turned to see what it was. He was greeted by a yellowing sheet of paper posted to a wall with not only his real name on it, but also The Artful Dodger inked neatly upon it. The reward had declined a few pounds, a good sign, but it was still disquieting. Dodge ripped the sheet down to show Terrence. "This is what happens when you ain't cautious enough. You don't want this, trust me."

"Yes, Mr. Dodger."

"You understand why?"

"I believe so, yes."

Dodger nodded and crumpled the paper up, shoving it in his pocket and continuing to walk. "You're a smart boy, Terrence. That won't happen to you." He said, more to himself than anything.

"Thank you, Mr. Dodger. I shall try my very hardest."

"I know you will." He ripped down another poster as he passed it, shoving that in his pocket as well. "Why don't you go over and take care of the other side of the road, eh?"

"Yes, Mr. Dodger!" came the enthusiastic reply.

And so they approached the marketplace, ripping down Wanted posters left and right, also the occasional ones of those wanting people he'd met on the streets and had come to good decisions about. However, as the crowds became slowly thicker, he instructed Terrence to stop so as not to look too suspicious. The square came into view, a bustling center full of unsuspecting civilians going about their daily routine in long coats and calico dresses with pretty bonnets to match. Dodger eyed each individual person as they hurried in and out of view. Hopefully this would go better than it had in the past. Hopefully no one would recognize him from the description. Suddenly he felt quite grateful for not having a hat; that was his signature accessory, according to the traps. "Listen to me very, very carefully." He said harshly, turning his attention to Terrence and kneeling to the boy's height, resting a hand on his shoulder. "If you see the traps, I want you to let me know. Can you whistle, Terrence?"

"Yes, Mr. Dodger, though not very loudly."

"That's not good then…what can you do loudly without attracting too much attention?" his gaze searched the crowds in brief paranoia before looking back at him.

"May I yell something?"

Dodger stared at the sidewalk in thought for a few seconds before responding. "What would you yell?"

"I don't know, sir. Perhaps something about tying my shoe?"

"Tying your shoe."

"Yes, Mr. Dodger. Come tie my shoe. That way it won't be unusual, but there's less of a chance of anyone else could say the same thing."

Dodger grinned. That was Charley-thinking. Sure, Charley would have come up with something slightly more outrageous to say, but the way Terrence arrived at the idea was very much like his old best mate. "Very good idea." He approved, patting Terrence heartily on the shoulder. His face became serious once more, though, when he remembered what more he had to say. "If you see the traps, I want you to try very hard to make sure I'm aware. But if you feel as though you'll be found, I want you to leave for home as quickly as you can. If I see that you're gone, I'll know what happened." He paused as another idea struck him. "If anyone tries to take you, traps or not, I want you to yell anything you can _except_ my name as loudly as possible." He felt like an overprotective mother sending her child off to school for the first time, but he felt it was necessary to see to any possibilities. "I won't be out of eyesight for more than a minute at a time, but a lot can happen, understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Dodger."

"Good. Stay here." With that, Dodger left his young apprentice on the sidewalk before the marketplace.

After ridding his pockets of many crumpled up Wanted posters, he was able to attain two handkerchiefs, one pocketbook, and a few oranges in the first three minutes. Three minutes later, he'd acquired three more pocketbooks, four more wipes, a pocket watch and a loaf of bread. When he checked back on Terrence, he was sitting on the sidewalk, drawing pictures in the dirt with a stick. Dodge approached his next victim, a rather short man with very long hair beneath a brown messenger's hat, and a fraying pair of short pants that clung unusually close to the fellow's unusually thin and hairless legs. That only made it slightly more difficult to get the pocketbook, which he kept stupidly in his back pocket. He stretched out his hand slyly, but his breath caught in his chest as the man turned and grabbed him by the wrist, while at the same time revealing himself to be not at all a man, but a girl. Keane, in fact. Keane, who laughed at him particularly loudly.

"Nice try," she said, throwing down his hand with a smirk.

"Keane! I didn't realize,"

"Clearly." She stated shortly, shaking her head.

Dodger frowned and continued. "We've been out here for only a few minutes, I was going to go around for a bit, then take Terrence so he could see exactly what to do. I just figured I'd grease it up a bit first, it's been a while for me."

"Indeed. You'll be hard pressed to catch me off guard, so don't try nothin' like stealin' from me again!" She shouted, not seeming to hear him.

"I said I didn't know it was you, what bit _your_ arse?" Dodge replied in a hushed tone, looking around to see how much attention she'd called upon them by yelling.

Keane blinked, as though realizing suddenly that her tone was less than friendly. "Nothin'." She turned away to look at some books on a table.

"Where did you go last night?" he asked her, turning so that he stood beside her, also looking at the books.

"What do you mean, where did I go? I didn't go nowhere."

Now it was Dodger who laughed. "You lying-"

"Alright!" She threw a book down with a harsh smack, causing the bookkeeper to glare at them coldly. "Come away," Keane grabbed his arm and he turned to give the keeper an apologetic smile as he was dragged off. Once they were out of the way of the crowd, Keane stopped by a brick building and gathered her words. "It's difficult to explain, Dodge,"

"Look, if you're out sleepin' with who knows, it ain't my problem, I don't care."

The girl let out a heavy sigh, slightly out of place, but she nodded and said, "That's it. It…it ain't nothin' I'm proud of,"

"Like I said, I don't care, it ain't nothin' big."

"Right." She laughed, reassured. "Well, you'd best get back to Terrence,"

"Yes! I told him I'd only be gone a moment or so,"

"Better hurry then." She smiled and walked away, leaving him to take off speedily for the place he'd left the boy.

He came up to Terrence with a relieved smile and crouched down to eye level. "Sorry about that, ran into Keane,"

"It's quite alright, Mr. Dodger. What did Miss Keane say?"

"Oh, nothin' too important. She'll be out a lot at night is all."

"Oh. Why?"

"Business. How about you come along this time for a better look, eh?"

"Oh yes, Mr. Dodger!"

Terrence grabbed ahold of Dodger's sleeve so as not to be separated by the crowd, and trailed along beside him.

Dodge looked around for Keane, just to be sure he didn't accidentally try to pick her pocket again, but she was long gone. So he found an older gentleman walking briskly through the crowd and decided that he was a prime target. "If he turns around," He mentioned to Terrence, "You're to go the opposite direction from me, understand, and we sh'll meet up again at the corner we came from."

"Yes, Mr. Dodger." Came the usual answer.

The thief advanced upon the gentleman casually as ever and effortlessly reached into the pocket of his overcoat with limber fingers, producing both a wallet and a wipe.

Terrence's eyes glowed as they slowed their pace and turned a corner between carts. "That was positively fascinating!"

Dodger laughed. "You'll learn it soon enough, I imagine. You'll make a right uncatchable thief, you will."

"Do you really think so, Mr. Dodger?"

"Without a doubt." He smiled. "Ready for the next?"

--

The sun was a hazy amber as it lethargically descended behind the permanently gray atmosphere of London. The Artful Dodger and young Terrence Gibbons were making their way home after a long day of parading around the marketplace.

"Impressive!" Dodger commented as he peeked inside his coat pocket to see their earnings. Rather, his earnings. Though Terrence had taken a nice stab at it by nicking small things here and there from the tables.

"We did quite well, didn't we, Mr. Dodger?"

"That we did," He yawned, stretching out one arm and scratching his head with the other. They came upon the house just as the last smog-ridden sun rays sank below the buildings. Dodger opened the door and they stumbled tiredly inside.

"Well, you must've enjoyed yourselves, it's nearly 8:30." Keane's voice came from the dining room.

"It was quite fun, Miss Keane!" Terrence exclaimed as he followed Dodger into the room.

Dodge took a seat at the table across from Keane and yawned again.

Keane smiled at Terrence but turned her attention to her colleague. "Whatjya get, Dodge?"

"Not a lot,"

"I think it was an awful lot, Mr. Dodger!" Terrence interjected.

Dodger looked at him, smiling somewhat uneasily and reached in his pocket to pull out a couple oranges. "Yes, yes we did get quite a lot. Good job to you especially." He tossed them both to the boy, who caught them eagerly. "Why don't you go enjoy these, give Keane an' me a bit of time here, alright?"

"Thank you, Mr. Dodger! I shall!" He scurried up the stairs and moments later, they heard a door screech open and closed on painfully rusty hinges.

Dodger turned back to the table. "Like I said, not a lot. Not as much as I should've gotten in that amount of time."

"You didn't have much help, I imagine." She shrugged.

"Yeah. Well Terrence helped a bit, though he didn't get nothin' useful. Buncha plastic things he liked."

"Well he can keep 'em. What'd you get?"

"Pocketbooks, wipes…a pocket watch…I think it's broken though...two more oranges, three apples…and the plastic figures he picked out." He told her as he pulled them all out of his many pockets and dumped them upon the table.

"That ain't too bad," Keane commented as she spread them out before her.

"I can do a lot better, I know I can." He said, feeling more than slightly disappointed in himself.

"Yes, I really should hope so. I mean, this'll do for the first go, but we can't afford to only get this much each try. If we're to accomplish anything, that is." She finished quickly.

"You're right. Tomorrow'll be better, for certain." He nodded in agreement. "What about you? How's your business comin' along?"

"What?"

"You know…" he raised a brow expectantly, waiting for her to catch on.

Keane frowned. "What business?"

"What you do…at night?"

"I don't…oh. Oh yes, of course. Yes, that." She laughed and scratched at the back of her head.

Dodger shook his head. "I already told you it ain't nothin' to be ashamed of."

"Yes, I know! I just forgot for a moment, alright?" she snapped.

The thief sat back in his chair, slightly surprised. "Alright..." Then he let the silence fill the room for a while before he crossed his arms and said, "You know, I never woulda pinned you as the sleeper type."

"Why's that." Keane muttered, examining and chewing on her nails.

"I dunno. You ain't nearly pretty enough." He grinned.

She raised her eyes to glare at him venomously, a finger still in her mouth and said, "Well then, if you're so much prettier than me, maybe you should be the one sleepin' around, eh? I'm sure all the gentlemen'd love you in a dress. That is, of course, lest they find out what's underneath what shouldn't be. Might run into a wee problem there."

"Ha! You just try to put me into one-a-dem god forsaken puffs of hell. I don't know how girls can stand it, it all seems very…painful."

"Oh come on, Dodge. I thought pain was manly. If dresses are painful, then I think every man should wear one on a regular basis. And this is just the job for you." She smirked and continued before Dodger could respond. "Anyway, what's your plan for tomorrow?"

Dodger scowled. "Terrence an' me'll go out, get a bit more stuff, and try to find more of his like on the streets."

"Anythin' else?"

"…Not that I was aware of…"

"We ain't all vegetarians here, Dodge. And me personally, I'm gettin' a little tired of fruit."

"We ain't even been here more than a single night, how can you already be tired of fruit?" Dodger asked incredulously.

"Exactly." She leered, returning to her nails.

"Fine then." The Artful Dodger glowered. "Tomorrow I sh'll find somethin' that ain't fruit, since that don't seem to suit you no more." Keane didn't answer, so he got up and pushed his chair back in. "I'm goin' to get some rest. Have fun with the fine coves I'm sure you'll be meeting this evenin'."

"Of course." She murmured.

Dodge left the room and went up the two flights of stairs to his own, closing the door behind him and throwing himself on the bed, much like the night before. He lay, staring at the ceiling, not as tired as he should be, but not awake enough to finish a complete thought. Less than an hour later, he heard the door slam shut below. Less than an hour after that, he was asleep.

* * *

Forgive me!! It's been much too long since my last update. I know some of you might have been wondering if I'd just vanished from the face of the earth. The truth is, I had a lot done and I was nearly ready to post again, but it was total crap and I figured you'd rather wait that read something terrible. Not that this isn't. I know this must seem like a filler chapter...I promise though that in the next chapter, I will try my best to pick up the storyline and start moving with it. Good god. Thank you though, I've gotten so many more reviews than I could have possibly imagined. I think this chapter has to be slightly disappointing, but...next chapter! It will be better. I swear. 

Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed...

Oh yes! And I have a little something for you, nothing too big...sometimes it's difficult for me to keep track of where all the rooms are in a giant three story building, so I've laid out a basic floorplan and posted it on DeviantArt. This thing won't let me post links, but my DA name is Etherealjade, and if you're not familiar with it, the format is **(username).deviantart** and then dot com.  
At the top of my page, it says 15 scraps with a link that says browse. The first three scraps are the ones you're looking for. I'm sorry, I wish I could post the links to make it a little bit less time consuming...it won't take too long though, I promise. And forgive me the spare rooms...they'll surely be filled by the many boys to come.

Until next time (hopefully next time will be fairly shortly)

PandaBlue


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